Page 86 of The Edge of Always

What I do know is that I can’t be the one to move first. My bikini top is folded neatly on a little table next to the aromatherapy oils. There’s absolutely no way I’m getting up and trying to wrestle it on while Emmett is here.

Emmett sees me looking at my top.

‘I think I’ll go now, though. You take as long as you need.’

He’s out of his towels like Jesus out of the shroud. ‘I’m going for a cold plunge.’ He tells me, leaving.

I smirk. Maybe I’m not the only one affected by this whole situation.

It does take some wrestling to get my bikini back on. Even my fingers are oily and also, they don’t appear to be working so well. I should probably call the helpline. I just don’t want to. I just want my heart to hold up for two more days.

I can’t escape it, not fully though. I have to go and check my phone. Downside to being on the transplant list is I can’t ever really be entirely away from it. I can’t ever switch it off.

Anyway, I literally slide into the changing room and check my phone. Nothing except some inspirational quote memes from Mum. The day that woman learned to share from Facebook was a dark day, indeed. Mae had tried to remove her from the family Whatsapp.

Emmett appears to be several cold plunges deep by the time I’m done checking my phone.

I walk over to him.

‘How’re you doing?’ I nudge the top of his arm where it’s now freezing.

‘Okay,’ he tells me. ‘Are you done?’

I nod. ‘I might just head up to the room.’

He douses himself in freezing water again.

‘Be my guest.’

I go to walk away, thinking that we’ve spent quite enough time in this spa.

‘Luna.’ Emmett touches the top of my arm lightly. I turn. It feels important. Whatever he’s going to say, I think it’ll be important. How can I be so close to him? He’s right there, and he’s looking at my lips. Some sort of lip-based muscle memory kicks in, and I wet them with the edge of my tongue.

‘Why did you give up art?’

Tell him, I think. Tell him and he’ll kiss you. No, no, no. Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea. It doesn’t work, and reminding myself that this is a bad idea doesn’t matter.

I’m still laser-focused on his lips, shaking my head furiously at his question, but I’m all in by the time Emmett looks at the ground and says, ‘I’ll see you upstairs.’

And I forgot, how could I forget that there’s another reason it will never work between Emmett and me. It’s not just my heart that’s damaged; he’s damaged too. And if memories of the past have shown me one thing, it’s that no amount of love can fix him.